Griffith Peak, Cathedral Rock, Echo Cliffs

 06/26/26

I cooked up a freeze-dried meal with what little water I had left, leaned against a tire in the shade of my car and proceeded to inhale the sorry contents inside the shiny metallic packaging with the kind of speed and efficiency that would make a Dyson Vacuum blush with envy. Barefooted and dirty, my face crusted with salt, my shirt even crustier, I got up, shook my empty gallon jug, and said something like, "Damn, I need more water." 

And so began the search. I drove on over to the Hilltop Campground with windows down and eyes peeled, trying to find a pump of some kind, a spigot, a fountain. Nothin'. Not a ding dang darned thing. Probably coulda just asked the campground host about the facilities, but that woulda been too easy. I like making things difficult. Gives life a little extra zing, like eating an entire bag of Takis before running a 4x400m relay. 

And then it was on to the Mahogany Grove Group Campground. Families stretched out in comfy ol' camp chairs, little kids running amok, people grillin' and eatin' and having a grand ol' time next to their colorful tents and climate-controlled trailers. No water though. Damn. I really didn't wanna drive all the way back into town. But that seemed to be what I was gonna have to do.

And so I drove on down State Route 158, out of the mountains, out of the peaceful serenity of the high country, off and away into the arid land below. I made a stop at the Spring Mountains Visitor Center but it was closed. No water there. Damn. That was my hail mary. Ah well. Maybe the lodge had some water bottle filling station or something. 

So I found me a spot, parked the car and waddled into the lodge with dead legs, clutching my gallon jug like a child does its favorite toy. And I looked around and didn't see nothin', at least, nothin' of the water-filling sort. Just a clean lobby, shiny floors, soft lighting; and over in the corner, just out of view, a fancy restaurant of sorts, the clatter of silverware and the mixed drone of unknown conversation drifting through the open doors. I walked up to the reception desk, the concierge dressed in a well-fitted suit. I said, "Umm, is there a place where I can fill this up?" And he looked at me with a barely perceptible gaze of contempt but it only lasted a split second and he said, "I can fill it up for you." And I said "really?" and he said "of course!" and I handed him the jug and he disappeared into the restaurant, a man on a mission. 

He returned with the jug no more than three minutes later, the thing filled to the brim. He handed it to me. He was now wearing gloves. Latex gloves. And he looked at me and said, "Unfortunately it isn't cold" and I said, "ahh, no problem, thank you very much, seriously, I really appreciate it" and while I was saying that he was slowly removing his gloves and he gave me that barely perceptible gaze of contempt and then it was gone and he smiled and I walked through the doors and hobbled on up to the car and drove off into the sleepy town of Mt. Charleston to the South Loop Trailhead. 

And I found me a spot and posted up for the night, the day's foolish endeavor finally catching up to me in the form of aches and pains dancing up and down my aggrieved legs. And as I was brushing my teeth, the sun going down, the surrounding mountains bathed in twilight, I saw a spigot, clear as day, positioned right there between the two bathrooms. Wow. Nearly choked on my own spit. What a funny thing, life is. I glared at the spigot with the same barely perceptible gaze of contempt of the concierge, and then I smiled, and then I yawned, and then I crawled into the car and tried to get comfortable for what turned out to be a long and tedious night of pure restlessness. 

When it was bright enough to see my dirty ol' toes I knew Friday had finally come and that I should probably start walking 'cause brother, this was gonna take a while. The day before, on my long hike to Mt. Charleston, I'd noticed Griffith Peak off in the distance. Looked interesting. Had to see what was up there. Plus, I was curious to see what the South Loop Trail had to offer. Like the North Loop Trail, it too leads to the summit of Mt. Charleston. From what I'd read it's a little shorter mileage-wise with a lot more elevation gain. Perhaps I shall take this route the next time I visit Charleston. Who's to say. As for right then and there: Griffith Peak. Had to do it. And so, with water bottles filled to the brim with fancy lodge water, I got out the ol' trekking poles and began the hike to the summit, the early morning light bouncing off the high cliffs like a dodgeball off a face.

On the South Loop Trail

And there were several people out and about, all of them heading up the trail towards Griffith. Some with huge packs, some with tiny cheap nothing packs, some with no packs at all. The folks with no packs at all fit into one of two types: the shirtless macho dudes who didn't need no stinkin' backpack and the girlfriend or wife or whatever making the boyfriend or husband or whatever carry all the gear. Everyone seemed to be in good spirits, terrifically excited to be walkin' around in the fantastic and mystical out-of-doors.

And the trail was steep and there were a few switchbacks and most of it was in the shade. And then the trail curved into the sun and it was switchback after switchback, unrelenting, one after the next after the next. But they were well made and wonderfully graded and I continued along, one step at a time, chuggin' along up the side of the mountain. 

Charleston came into view. I stopped. Gazed at the summit. Followed the ridgeline to the north with my eyes, making out Rocketship and Lee, and then off to the east, farther down, Mummy Mountain, rocky and steep and hauntingly gorgeous. The memory of those summits was still fresh in my mind. I looked at them and I knew what they were all about, I had been there, I'd seen what there was to see. An interesting perspective, the surrounding country slightly less mysterious. I looked, I pondered, I digested, I carried on, walking past a fallen sign welcoming me into the "Mt. Charleston Wilderness."

Mt. Charleston

Switchbacks

Up and up, Griffith Peak coming into view. Sunshine and blue sky up above, crunchy dirt and scattered pebbles down below. Nobody passed me. And I passed nobody. For a brief moment, I had the whole trail to myself. A magical time. Magical like the last glistening gas station hotdog still rollin' strong and warm underneath the harsh fluorescent lights of the local gas station at 2am that will surely cause severe gastrointestinal distress once consumed so you simply look at it with a hungry gaze and settle for a bag of chips and some Mountain Dew and carry on down the road, off into the night, the tail lights of your car slowly disappearing into the eerie mist. 

And I reached the top of the switchbacks, having gained a ridge of sorts. Wind, wind, wind. Blowing this way and that. Cold wind. Chilly wind. Had to don the ol' windbreaker. I put it on, my pack pressing it against my sweaty backside. That woke me up a bit. Just a bit. A minor shock, a minuscule drop of adrenaline. But it got me going nevertheless, and soon I was on my way to the summit, the thing not too far away, the trail leading me all the way to the top.

Griffith Peak comes into view...

And I got to the top and went "Yep" and I sat down and performed my usual summit ritual: eat, look, eat some more, look some more, get up, find a new spot, repeat. And I found me a spot just east of the summit, nice and secluded, out of the wind, out of sight. People came and went, took their summit photos, signed the register, hopped up and down in terrific excitement and then descended off the mountain without a clue of my existence. 

I sat there and looked out at the urban sprawl of Sin City. I could see the strip. I could make out the individual buildings. Looked hot and hazy. Not a good place to be. Much better to be up, above and away. Far away. As far away from that jazz as could possibly be. I've done my time on the Vegas Strip. I've seen the sights. I've walked the streets. I've written all I can think of to write about that silly ol' spot. I doubt I'll be back. No want. No need. It ain't my kind of thing. 

Mummy, Coxcomb and Fletcher from Griffith

Charleston from Griffith

Mostly south

East

The Strip

I sat for a good long while on Griffith. Makin' up for lost time on Charleston. But what comes up must come down and eventually me, myself and I had to come back down. 'Tis a law of nature. And I obey nature. At least, most of the time...

Plus I was now completely out of food so the idea of driving into town and sinking my teeth into the greasiest grub I could find was more than enough to provoke my soul from its comfy resting place, commanding my aching corpse to get up and get going down the mountain, back to the car. 

Off the mountain, back to the ridge. I took off the ol' windbreaker. Didn't need it no more. And then it was switchback after switchback, going down, down, down. And there were several people, tons of people, all kinds of people heading up. Young and old, fit and not-so-fit, I saw 'em all, and they all smelled clean and fresh and all of them seemed to be greatly enjoying themselves, even the folks that were drenched in sweat and red in the face and hunched over coughing, hands on their knees, spitting into the dirt. 

And I passed this one lady who was raising her hands in the air and I stopped and chatted with her a bit and she said she had to give herself "pep talks" to keep her going but damn it all, she was gonna keep going and she was determined and disciplined and she damn well was gonna make it dammit! 

And I passed this group of teenage boys posted up in the shade munchin' on apples and these influencer lookin' ladies who were talking more than breathing and these two young men smoking cigarettes and blasting alternative music and unaware of anything and everything. And the sun was high in the sky and everything was nice and bright and the cliffs were tall, precipitous, endearing, foreboding, and I carried on down the trail, my feet sore, my poles click-clackin' on the dirt. Lots of steps to go, many, many more to go. 

Heading down, Harris Mtn right

But putting one foot in front of the other got me where I needed to go, and soon I was back in the shade of the pines, the sound of the parking lot finally meeting my ears. But I wasn't done yet. No sir. Saw me a sign. Said "Cathedral Rock" with a little ol' arrow pointing to the right. And it wasn't too far away. Figured I might as well check it out since I was in the area. And so I did.

Echo Cliffs (AKA "Prana Peak")

Cathedral Rock

I went slow and low, my poles doing most of the work. People passed me by, I passed people, everyone going a their own pace, everyone living their own story. I followed the trail the whole way to the rocky summit, the thing crowded, folks everywhere taking pictures and playing music and looking at their phones, most likely checking the stockmarket or something like that. Very important stuff to do when you're in the fantastic and mystical out-of-doors.

Good views from Cathedral Rock

Charleston (far left) and Mummy (right) from Cathedral

Harris Mtn (left) and Echo Cliffs (center)

And I hunched over my poles and exhaled and then leaned back and went "alright" and then set off down the trail, back from whence I came. But first, a minor pitstop. Cathedral Rock had been cool and all, but something about it didn't sit well with me. Not too sure what it was. Maybe it was the lack of solitude. Who knows. All I knew was that I simply couldn't let it be the last peak of the trip. Needed a proper send-off, a proper showstopper, one that would bring this crazy weekend of excessive peaks to a definitive, satisfying conclusion. 

But what was there to climb? How about the Echo Cliffs. Looked like a mighty fine objective from down below on my way over to Cathedral Rock. Once atop Cathedral, I saw that the highpoint of the cliffs wasn't much of a "peak," but it still looked interesting nonetheless. And so, more so hungry than exhausted, I ordered my body to leave the trail at a point that seemed best and head up the steep slopes to the Echo Cliffs highpoint, the going incredibly steep and loose. 

Off trail 

Class 3, likely avoidable

Steep, loose class 2

Fossils!

I took a straightforward, no-nonsense line of ascent to the summit, encountering a small class 3 obstacle along the way that was likely avoidable. And I slogged my way up steep, loose, crumbly class 2, heading straight up the thing, the poles a godsend. I'm sure if one were to ascend just a little more to climbers right, the going would be far easier. But I was impatient and I wanted something challenging anyway so it was A-OK and fine by me and I slogged up the thing with a smile on my face and sweat on my brow and soon I topped out on the ridge and walked the rest of the way to the top, an old campfire ring marking the highpoint. 

Echo Cliffs Highpoint

And I sat on down in what little shade I could find and there was a register off to the side, weathered and worn, filled with a smattering of entries going all the way back to 2004. Apparently this highpoint has an official name: "Prana Peak." Well golly gee whillikers. You learn something new every day...

Cathedral Rock down below

And this was a far superior summit with superior views and superior solitude; Cathedral Rock ain't got nothing on this spot. A fine conclusion to a weekend of stupidity. I was satisfied. Fully content. All I needed was some food. My stomach grumbled. I grunted. Alright. Time to head back...

Heading back to the trail...

Back on trail...

"Prana Peak" from the trail

Down the loose stuff, poles in the pack now, using my hands for balance, ready to catch myself if need be. And I made it back to the trail without issue and waltzed the rest of the way to the parking lot, no clouds in the sky, the temps hovering in the low 80's. I found a shaded spot, stretched a bit, hopped in the car, changed out of my reeking clothes, put the car in drive, and then coasted on out of there, out of the hills, into the desert, into the heat, nothing on my mind but the coming meal.

And I drove to the restaurant I had in mind and I did it right this time. Oh yeah. Definitely did it right. I messed up on my last weekend trip. I was unaware of the establishment's "unlimited" menu. For $28, you have an 1½ hours to eat as many burgers and sides as your belly can hold. This time I was prepared. I was ready. And I sat down and ordered me the greasiest, most calorie-dense items I could find, shoving them down my gullet without a care in the world. 

Satisfied with my act of gluttony, I payed the tab and drove on out of there, back to Utah, back to the ol' homestead, hopped in the shower and went straight to bed, completely wiped-out. Man, what a trip. Ain't ever done something like that before. And I doubt I'll ever do something like that again, at least for a long, long time...

Mt. Charleston and Company

Alright. Time for a big one. I've been needin' to get out there as of late. June's been rather busy; not a whole lotta time to get out into the sticks. Hadn't gone on a weekend trip for a couple of months, not since the epic outing to Telescope Peak back in April. Needed another one. Needed a good and proper long-ass hike. But what would it be?

I thought back to the Telescope Peak trip. On the drive out, I recalled seeing Mt. Charleston and its storm-covered summit. I remember viewing it from the summits of both Pyramid Peak and Eagle Mountain, the thing compelling, highly intriguing. How could it not be? With over 8,000ft of prominence, this peak is a true sight to behold. On the drive back, heading through Pahrump, I couldn't take my eyes off it. Just kept glancing at it along the highway, its snowy summit infinitely captivating. Yep. Had to get up there some day. Just didn't know when.  

Well, late June seemed to be the right time so I did me some research when I got off work last Wednesday, the 24th, lookin' at possible routes to the summit. After about 15 minutes I'd finally devised the foundation for a really long, really stupid hike through the mountains, a weekend trip that was sure to cause my legs to file a restraining order from the rest of my body. And so, that afternoon, I packed up some essentials, drove to the grocery store and stocked up on water and snacks, and then drove off toward Vegas, the temps hovering in the low triple digits, a fuzzy haze covering the distant horizon. 

Got into town a little early, just before 7:00pm. Still had quite a bit of daylight left, so I decided to hit up a spot to stretch the legs and warm up the body for the absolute monster of a hike I had planned the next morning. I drove over to this little ol' hill known as "Lone Mountain," parked the car, and then began the very short hike to the summit. 

Lone Mountain Summit, lookin' towards the strip

Urban sprawl, Gass Peak in the distance

Still kinda hot, but not too bad. Lots of folks were out and about now that evening was approaching, the temps steadily falling from the triple digits to the upper 90's. I followed the trail the whole way to the top, the thing a bit steep in places but nothing too crazy. There was a sweaty guy on the summit trying to drive his RC car on the bumpy rocks; something I've never seen someone do on the top of a mountain. I stood around, took in the views, the urban sprawl of Vegas expanding in front of me, hundreds and hundreds of identical houses with identical pools and identical cars on identical streets. And then it was down, down, down, off the mountain, back to the car, people out jogging on the streets, the sun setting behind the high peaks to the west, the mercury dropping ever so slowly, evening coming into play, windows down, a warm breeze blowin' through the air, night on its way, everything nice and calm and lazy and relaxed. 

"Lone Mountain"

And I stopped at a Panda Express and loaded up on the carbs and then drove off into the mountains, the sun finally gone, dusk in full swing, the moon now making its entrance, bathing the surrounding country with a soft, cold glow. And I saw what looked to be a rocket in the distance and then it disappeared and I didn't think nothin' of it and then I hooked a right onto State Route 158 and drove up to the North Loop Trailhead, found a spot, parked the car, brushed the teeth, and then settled in for a long night of tossin' and turnin'.  

Morning came, and of course it came right when I finally got comfy. But comfy would have to wait. I had a whole lotta ground to cover. The plan for the day was to hike Mt. Charleston via the North Loop Trail, an endeavor that would cover around 20 miles with the kind of elevation gain that makes the legs cry and the feet turn to athiesm. There were a few other peaks that rise near the trail as well; I figured I'd give 'em a little looksie depending on how I felt. So, just before 6am on June 25th, I set off on the trail, the morning light reflecting off the gray cliffs and quiet trees.

Walking along, the trail steadily gaining elevation, the morning peaceful and serene. Passed a coupled of young lads making their way down. Passed a person and their corgi sleepin' all comfy-like underneath some rugged pines. Up and up, switchback after switchback, the temps cool but not too cool. Definitely gonna be hot later. Dang. Shoulda brought more water. 

And then I reached a saddle of sorts and decided to hit up this minor bump to my left, 'cause, why not? Ditched the trail and walked for like 2 minutes until reaching the high point, decent views of the surrounding country extending before me. "Raintree Point" is what it was called. Interesting little spot, but I don't think I'll be back.

And then it was down, down, down, losing elevation, and all I could think of was how much this was gonna suck on the way back. Oh well. Sometimes it be like that. And I reached a junction with the trail that leads to Fletcher Peak and I decided to hit up another small point and went straight instead of taking the main trail to the right and I climbed up to the top of "Raintree Hill" and it wasn't super interesting in all honesty; definitely won't ever go back there, no, no no. Same views, same terrific mountains, a deep valley, pines down below, gray rocks up above, the two worlds separated by a thin ol' timberline near the tippy-top like a crease on the page of a well-loved book. 

Fletcher Peak left, Harris Mtn center right

"The Mummy's Toes"

From "Raintree Hill"

Down, down, down. It was nice going down. I focused on it; enjoying it right then and there. Didn't dwell on it. Didn't think about how I'd have to climb back up later. No sir. Enjoyed the moment I did. Just a grand, splendid ol' time.

And then I hit the junction with the closed trail that leads down to Trail Canyon and I hooked a right and started going up for a change, slowly gaining elevation once again, heading up these long switchbacks towards Mummy Mountain. I passed by the use trail to get to that particular summit. Looked up. Man, what slog. Nothin' but loose scree. Nonsense stuff. Pure nonsense. Good thing I'm nonsensical though. Took one look, went "yep" and then started climbin' up the thing. Why? I do not know. Maybe it was the name. "Mummy Mountain." Sounded cool. Had to see what was up there.

And I slogged up the scree and it sucked the wind out of me and if I wasn't sweating before I was sure sweating now, big ol' drops, plip plop plap, my breath heavy and labored, my thoughts gone, nothing on my mind except up, up, up. And I got to the top of the slog and hooked a right, following a well-worn use trail as it maneuvered up a steep lil' ridge. Some shade here, some shade there. Nice stuff, good stuff. I liked it. And then I reached the base of these cliffs, following the use trail as it hugged the side of them, leading me to this very prominent notch that took me where I needed to go.

The slog up to Mummy Mountain

Use trail leads to the notch in the cliffs

The cliffs of Mummy Mountain...how purty...

Class 2 in the notch

Looking down the notch, Charleston in the distance

And I scurried up the notch lickety-split, the going steep but no harder than class 2. And I topped out on a wide, mellow area mostly made up of rocks. Very little trees up there. Not a whole lotta greenery. Hit up the north summit first; why I went over there, man, I don't know. A lot of wandering around seemed to be in store for the day. Just ramblin' and scramblin' whenever and wherever I pleased. 

A quick walk later brought me to the north summit, that, like the previous little bumps I'd climbed earlier that morning, wasn't very interesting. Didn't stay too long. Stood around, took a few photos, and then made my way to the higher, main summit of Mummy Mountain.

View from the North Summit

The main summit just a hop, skip and a jump away.

Ambled on over there. Sat on down. Munched on some homemade granola bars. Peanut butter, honey and oats. That's all there is to it; nothing too fancy, nothing too crazy. Kind of like Mummy Mountain. For such an impressive lookin' peak, the summit itself is very quite mellow, some might even say "relaxing." And so I sat on down and got good and relaxed and comfy and absorbed the views; you know, the kind of thing you do on every mountain. Just sit and stare, sit and stare. 

What else is there to do? Drive an RC car? Unfortunately, I was fresh out of those. So I was left to just sittin' and starin' and gawkin' and gapin', readin' the entries in the register, takin' a buttload of pictures, stuff like that. And once I'd had my fill I said goodbye to Mummy Mountain and scampered on down the notch, out of the cliffs, down the scree, back to the trail, back to walkin', walkin' and more walkin', Mt. Charleston growing slightly more close with each passing step.

Lookin' towards Vegas from Mummy Mountain

Griffith Peak and Potosi Mtn in the distance

Obligatory Summit Portrait

Back on the trail, Charleston gettin' closer...

And the trail was legit, a great trail, an amazing trail, the kind of trail you imagine in your dreams. Only gradually uphill now, skirting the side of the ridge, Charleston growing closer, the sky a brilliant blue, the weather absolutely amazing. What a day, what a day. And then the trail angled towards the mountain, slicing through these impressive cliffs and steep ol' slopes on Charleston's east face, cuttin' through them like shark tooth through seal meat. And there was snow here and there, ephemeral, fleeting, quickly melting away, and I grabbed a handful and put it on my neck and it woke me up and got me nice and sprightly and good thing too 'cause the final switchbacks were approaching and them's looked a wee steep and I'd need all the energy I could get. 

Mt. Charleston community down below

Cool section of trail

Mummy Mountain (can you see the mummy?)

Up and up, no more trees, no more foliage, above the timber line, nothin' but rocks and melting snow. And there was a trailrunner guy runnin' on down the switchbacks dressed in a bright white sun hoodie and these neon blue shorts and he passed me by and said "in the tie and everything" and I said something profound like "yeah" and we parted ways, never to cross paths again. 

Up, up, until, finally, no more up, flat now, a man-made steel tower, an American flag, yep, this was the summit alright. I'd finally made it. Little windy, but not too bad. I stood around, my mind unable to comprehend the views from the summit of a peak with over 8,000ft of prominence. So much to see, even with the haze. Miles and miles of rugged desert and craggy peaks and desiccated towns and distant mountain ranges, barely perceptible. Wayy out there, Telescope Peak, yep, I'd recognize that summit anywhere. And behind that? Could it be? Yup. The hazy Sierra Nevada. Visibility wasn't good enough to make out individual summits, but the range was there all right, and it melted my brain. I could see the Sierra in one direction and the urban sprawl of Las Vegas in the other. Crazy, crazy stuff. Plus I had the whole summit to myself. Gotta love it when that happens!

West, Telescope Peak wayyyyy out there

South-ish

East

And I lingered and pondered and soaked up what I could see, unable to process it, all of it far too much for these mortal eyes. I could only take it in chunks, focus on one little section at a time. I'd sit and stare and try to pick out every little detail, every little tree, boulder, cliff, every little bump on a ridge. And it was too much. Too much for my tiny lil' brain. And so I packed up my stuff, shoving the last of my granola bars down my gullet, and headed on down, taking far too many photos along the way.

Back in the land of foliage...

Down, down, down, out of the land of rocks and snow, back to the land of trees and, well, yeah, that's about it. Just trees. And I walked along and saw this feature to my left that I'd noticed on the way up. "Devil's Thumb" is what I believe it's called. A small pinnacle made up of chossy, loose rock. Thing looked interesting, so I checked it out. 

I wrapped around to its western side, the east side far too exposed and vertical for my liking. I dropped my pack and poles and started scramblin' up the thing, the going definitely class 5 but nothing too hard. And then I came to this awkward overhang and I stopped there and thought a bit, turned on my prefrontal cortex, put it to work. Made a small adjustment with my feet and one of my holds just popped right out; no warning, no sign of looseness. Just popped right out. Yep. Definitely not climbin' this thing today. I may be dumb, but I ain't that dumb. So I carefully climbed back down and carried on my merry way, down the trail, Devil's Thumb receding out of sight. Gotta go back with a rope. That thing is just far too sketchy. 

Devil's Thumb

Lookin' down

So close yet so far...

And then I ditched the trail yet again and began wandering along a sweet ridge towards a bump in the distance. Like I said, this was a ramblin' scramblin' kind of day and I was in a ramblin' scramblin' kind of mood so of course I was gonna ramble and scramble that dang ridge to get to this bump. Didn't even know if it had a name. Just walked along the ridge, hopped on the summit, found the register, opened it up. "Rocketship Peak." Cool. On to the next one!

Following the ridge to Rocketship Peak, Lee Peak right

Charleston from Rocketship

I scampered off Rocketship Peak, found the trail, followed it for all of three seconds and then ditched it yet again to climb the next summit over: Lee Peak. I'd seen this one from both Mummy and Charleston and it looked a teency bit interesting, so I figured I might as well see what was up there. As I was sloggin' my way up, I predicted that I'd see lots of rocks, a fine view, and a register of sorts. And guess what? That's exactly what was up there. Who woulda known? 

Lee Peak summit, Charleston in the background

Lee Canyon

And I performed my usual summit ritual and snacked on some mixed nuts and meat sticks and took stock of my dwindling water supply. Only had a little over half a liter left. Ahh man. That meant no more peaks; 'twas just enough to get me back to the car, if that. And so, disheartened by my folly, I set off down Lee Peak, hit the trail, and then chugged out the miles, one foot in front of the other, mouth closed, breathin' through the nose. 

Crazy formations

Still a long way to go...

And I walked and walked and walked and walked and I didn't stop, no sir, just kept on going until my legs screamed at me and I said "alright" and I found me a spot in the shade and sat down and sipped my water, little by little. And then, could it be, was that the sound of...yes...yes it was...the sound of dripping water? I looked around. Just a minute ago I'd passed an empty trough with a hose resting above it. Thought it strange. Why was it there? And what did the hose lead to? Well, I heard me that dripping water in the otherwise utter silence of the mountains and there was a use trail behind me and it seemed to lead up to a neat alcove nestled on the slopes but hey, maybe there was water somewhere. And I climbed up the use trail and I found the alcove and the top was burnt black from years and years and years of campfire after campfire and there was a frying pan just laying there in the dirt and oh boy, oh blessed day, hallelujah, just a little ways farther, just past the alcove, was a gorgeous, tranquil, rejuvenating spring.

The alcove

The rejuvenating spring

And I stood on my tippy toes and filled up one of my bottles and let the cool water run down my arm and into my pant leg and all was good and happy and nice. The thing was drippin' at a pace of 1 ounce every 18 years so I didn't fill up my bottle all the way but it was enough to keep me going and I was grateful, fully grateful. Thank you spring. I owe you one. 

Rested and rehydrated, it was back to ramblin' and scramblin'. And I walked on down to that junction with Trail Canyon, Cockscomb Peak in the distance. Saw it. Pointed at it. Walked towards it. I'd hiked almost 20 miles by this point. What hurt could one little peak do? 

Cockscomb Peak

Oh man

Well, quite a bit actually. Having done almost zero research on this thing, I wasn't too sure what to expect. All I knew was that at some point I'd have to wrap around the east side of the peak to avoid the sketchy hullabaloo to the north. And so I simply followed the use trail, walked along a ridge of sorts, following it as best I could to the base of all that funky hullabaloo. It descended off to the east, I climbed on down, and then tried my best to maneuver through the funky terrain that stretched before me. Nothing too bad, just a wee bit convoluted. Lots of cairns though, so it was fairly obvious where to proceed. I encountered one class 3 move at one point; likely avoidable but hey, what are you gonna do, you know? After that, I ditched my poles and scampered on up the rest of the way to the summit, the going no harder than class 2. 

The convoluted east side

Some class 3 hidden in there somewhere...

Almost to the summit...

And I got to the top and my legs were tight but not dead. Still had some juice in 'em. Hadn't filed that restraining order yet, so that was nice. I took a gander and a gawk, performed a quick 360, and then went on back from whence I came. Not a whole lot of surprises on Cockscomb Peak. Looked cool from afar, but it had the same dang views I'd seen all dang day. 

Charleston from Cockscomb

Mummy from Cockscomb

Fletcher (left) and Harris (right) from Cockscomb

Heading back down...

And I hit the trail and started headin' up that section that was oh so nice earlier that morning but not so nice now in the afternoon and my legs weren't particularly happy but it was ok, I'd warned them that this was gonna happen, that what goes down must come up or whatever, that it was nothin' to worry about. And so my lugs hummed a tune and they carried me up that lovely section of trail, up and up, the cliffs of Mummy Peak huge, sheer, bright, Fletcher Peak rising in the distance. I looked at it. Decided to climb it. Didn't care how long it took. Didn't care what my legs had to say about it...

The cliffs of Mummy Peak

Fletcher!

And I hit the junction with the trail out to Fletcher and I followed it with my brain on cruise control, just walkin' along, my body runnin' on nothin but hopes and dreams. And I took a few breaks to catch my breath and I turned my pants into shorts and kept on with a steady, lackadaisical saunter until finally, finally, reachin' the summit, nobody there, the thing quiet, breezy, somewhat shaded. And I saw the southeastern summit just a stones throw away and I pointed at it and said "I'm headin' for you first" and I went straight there, walking under evergreens, my feet crunchin' on a carpet of pine needles. And there wasn't nothin', not a ding dang darn thing on that ding dang darn summit, nothin' but a bunch of ladybugs chillin' in a log. Well ok then. Color me surprised. That was not expected. Good job southeast summit of Fletcher Peak. You gave me something unexpected!

Southeast summit

I returned to Fletcher, my legs stiff, too tired to file the restraining order. I sat down, looked at the booklet. Very popular summit this one; the thing gets several visits every day. And I could see why. Good views, good views in all directions. Saw Charleston. Saw Mummy. Saw the vast expanse of empty desert to the north, saw Griffith Peak and Harris Mountain to the south. Light, warm breeze. Silence. No words, no talking. Nice. Very nice. 

Good ol' Mummy Mtn from Fletcher

Good ol' Charleston from Fletcher

Good ol' Harris Mtn and Griffith Peak from Fletcher

Good ol' SAT Adventures himself on Fletcher

But the afternoon was growing long and I was nearly out of food so it was time to go, time to go. But you see, my dear reader, the mountain air must've been gettin' to me. I wasn't in the right mind, or maybe, just maybe, the mind was never right in the first place. I was a freak that day. A ramblin' and scramblin' freak. And I shoulda stopped at Fletcher. Shoulda called it a day. But nope. Saw Raintree Peak in the distance. Ahh yes. Another summit. Damn. What is wrong with me?

Raintree Peak dead ahead

Fletcher from Raintree Peak

I climbed the thing. Climbed it nice and quick. It was right next to the main trail after all, plus it had this real nice use trail that took me all the way to the tippity top so it would behoove me not to climb it. I got to the top, scraped my knee. Oh well. That happens sometimes. The flies liked it. They were ecstatic, the little fiends. Sucked on the blood, sucked on the salt. I didn't bother swatting them away. I was content. Satisfied. I payed them no mind for I had no mind that could pay. Still runnin' on cruise control. 

And I got up and the flies were gone and I waltzed on back to the trail, down, down, down, switchback after switchback, various folks with backpacking gear headin' up, their journey just beginning, everything exciting and new to them, still fresh, still energized. 

Down, down, down, stopping only once to check out this weird lookin' bump on the way. Don't worry; it wasn't another peak. Just a hill, just simple, lil' ol' hill. And someone had built a lil' ol' wind shelter made out of lil' ol' logs and lil ol' sticks near the lil' ol' top of it; a great lil' ol' spot to pitch a lil' ol'  tent. 

And then it was back to the trail, back to down, back through the forest, under the pines, my nose blind to the fresh scent of the crispy air, my toes numb, my legs number. Walked and walked and walked and walked. And the trail spit me out into the parking area and I went straight to my car and got out my gallon jug of water that had been sitting in the sun all day and chugged and chugged and chugged. 27+ miles, nearly 9,000ft of elevation gain. Woo wee. What a hike.